Kissing at Arm's Length
by SirenAlpha
Summary: England stared at the engagement ring Russia had placed on her finger and wondered if companionship was the only thing that it promised her. Fem!EnglandxRussia
1. The Ring

This is actually a rewrite of my story Marriage which can still be found on this site. I'm putting it up as a new story, however, in an effort to keep up my interest in rewriting the story by reminding myself that people are still interested in this story. Also, this makes sure that anyone who reviewed a chapter in Marriage can review the rewritten chapter.

In other notes, this takes place about 200 years into the future, but the focus is not on the change in technology but rather the change in diplomacy and international relations.

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It had been decades since the last serious war. All imperialism and empires were mere memories and pages in history books. America started the fad of sorts. The economic disputes between America and China had disappeared. After a transition to a more democratic government in the eastern nation, the countries had grown close in every way. They created an alliance closer than the special relationship America had with England and the UK. This, for the personifications, was marriage. America had been the one to propose. Now, citizens were expecting their countries to pair off. They participated in votes or opinion polls to influence the creation of new alliances.

The pairings the polls predicted all matched the current state of relationships between personifications. Canada married Australia as Spain married the southern personification of Italy. Her much more lighthearted sister married Germany. Liechtenstein and Luxembourg married with Switzerland's blessing. Most of the countries had married, and England had attended near every wedding. Still, she lived alone, and her citizen's never chose a clear leader in the public opinion polls.

She had finished off the last of her evening tea and ready to move onto the opinion section of the news when she heard a knock on her door. Half annoyed but still mostly curious, she went to the front door and spied Russia through the window. He seemed to have forgotten that he usually smiled, giving him an odd air of seriousness.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him politely once she had the door open. "What brings you here?"

She had received the call notifying her that he'd be in town, but she distinctly remembered that there hadn't been any sort of meeting planned with her.

"I have a matter of personal business to discuss with you. May I come in? I won't take very long," he explained.

She frowned, but nonetheless stepped aside. "Yes, come in."

She watched him carefully as she guided him into the living room. He doesn't come to her for personal business; she'd spent years orchestrating that pattern. She went to him on personal business, normally because another nation wanted to tell him off but required more finesse than America.

"Take any seat you'd like, would you like anything to eat or drink?" she asked, maintaining her guise.

"No, that's fine. I would like it if you would just sit and talk with me," he answered, taking a seat on her couch and keeping his legs in close.

"Very well," she said and took the armchair across from the couch.

"I have a proposition for you," he said smoothly.

"Your proposition is?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I would very much like to marry you," Russia answered.

England couldn't help it, and burst out chortling. "You're joking," she said, shaking her head at the absurdity.

"I am absolutely serious. With each passing day, my sister gets closer to marrying me, and I do not wish for that to happen," he answered, his tone grave.

"Why though? Why me of all nations?" she asked, rolling her eyes and finding it difficult to take his proposal seriously.

"Out of those still available, you fear me least," he said, clasping his hands together.

"That's it? You want to base a relationship, a marriage, off the fact that we don't fear each other,"

"I think it's an important base," he said, but sighed when she motioned for him to continue. "I think we could work well together. We have at times in the past."

"In a professional sense, yes, that's true," she said, considering the proposal with a bit more weight. "We don't really have anything you could call relationship outside of our duties."

"I think we could have one,"

"One what?"

"A relationship; one that isn't just professional,"

"And you think the best way to try and create one is to get married?"

He looked away for a moment, clenching his jaw. "No, it's not the best way, but our professional relationship, as you would call it, hasn't strictly stayed within neat boundaries the whole time. I ask for marriage because there needs to be some immediacy."

England actually spent most of her time forgetting the times her relationship with Russia had slid into a grey area. Some of it had to do with England still not knowing how she felt about it and more of it had to do with not wanting to deal with America if she found out. "Those instances were enough for you to decide to propose to me?" she asked.

He leaned back against the couch. "I'm not asking for everything immediately. I'm only asking to be married and live together. You can even put conditions on it if you wish. I think that if we were to live together it would turn out alright. We could even be happy, eventually."

England opened her mouth to respond but awkwardly closed it again when she couldn't find any words. It was the most she'd ever heard from Russia of his opinions of their relationship. "And what of our relationship? Do you expect anything out of that, romantically speaking?"

"If it were to happen, I don't think I would object," he said, stunning her to silence.

He had considered the possibility of falling in love with her, and she didn't know what to think. She ran a hand over her forehead. She had as few options as he did for marriage, and many a hint had been passed her way that she should consider marrying given the political climate. She tried to imagine actually living with Russia, and she couldn't really say that it would be terrible. They'd been in close quarters before though others had been involved at those times. He hadn't been the worst of them through the sheer fact that he could be quiet. On top of that, he had given her the ability to place conditions on the marriage.

She spoke cautiously, "I accept your proposal, and I want our bosses to be involved in setting the conditions. We can set our rules and ensure that both parties find them fair."

He stared at her for a moment before nodding. "Good, I can set up the meeting then."

"Is there anything else?"

"No, not unless you have any other questions,"

"Not at the moment, but I'll call you if I think of anything. I have to sort things out first," she said, rising from her seat. He stood, following her back to the front door. She turned back to him before they reached it. "There's no going back from this, is there?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. You're having second thoughts already?"

"No, it's just sinking in," she said, moving towards the door again. As she pulled the door back she realized she didn't know how to address now that he was her fiancé. "Thanks for stopping by, I guess."

He passed her with his usual nod of farewell, but turned round to face her on the door step. He half raised his head, and she couldn't tell if he wanted a hand shake or was considering something else. "We'll sort that out later," she blurted, motioning for him to stay where he was, and quickly added a farewell just to shut the door.

She walked slowly back to her empty tea cup to rinse it out, rubbing her face and trying to calm her thoughts. After setting the cup aside she wandered her way back to reading the opinion section of the news. She noticed the bar graph immediately, eyes drawn to the title proclaiming to reveal a new preference among citizens on who she should partner with. The bar labeled 'Russia' had taken a clear lead over the competition. She flushed, considering how this new revelation might have influenced her decision earlier. She set aside the news to scrounge up dinner.

She ate distractedly, thoughts of living with Russia chasing themselves around her head. She found herself inundated with questions and pulling out her phone to call him. She almost tapped the button to call his number, but set aside her phone instead. "I'm getting married," she whispered to herself, rubbing her temples. "To Russia."

She gave up on eating after that, clearing her place before heading upstairs. She made a mental list of who she would need to give the announcement to in the morning. She also began making a list of what conditions she wanted to place on the marriage. She went to bed early just to stop thinking about it.

She walked down the hallway beside her boss at a clipped pace. Days ago, they had agreed to meet Russia and his boss at the Russian embassy. Now, they were mere minutes from sorting out a marriage. She took a deep breath before entering the room. She exchanged polite pleasantries with Russia and his boss, and they all took seats at the table. She avoided meeting Russia's gaze for the duration, keeping focused on clearly defining her conditions.

They laid out a schedule for where they would live; from the spring to fall equinox in Moscow and the rest of the year in London. They set our rules for behavior; no abuse of any sort, complete fidelity, and attempting to solve problems with words first. Their bosses proposed that they also should sleep in the same bed. England shared a wary look with Russia, but they didn't object to their bosses' proposition. As soon as they'd finished, England signed the document after Russia.

The bosses walked out of the room ahead of the nations. "England," Russia said as she was leaving the room.

"Yes?" she asked, turning back to him.

"I know I already proposed, but," he began and dropped down to one knee before her.

England's breath caught in her throat and she could feel her cheeks flushing. He continued as he pulled out a small black box. "I thought you might like this."

He had stunned her speechless again, and he opened the box to reveal a gold engagement ring with a diamond set in the center and three emeralds flanking each side. "It's beautiful," she managed to whisper as he pulled it out of the box.

"Here," he said, taking her left hand with a smile. He slid it onto her fourth finger. "Good, it fits. I guessed on the size."

"Thank you," she said as she ran her thumb over it.

"You are welcome. I'll walk you out."

That night, England sat on her couch watching as the news reported the reaction to the new alliance between her and Russia. It seemed positive overall, and she felt pleased. She kept running her fingers over her new ring, twisting it around her finger, trying to get used to it. It brought new weight to the situation as Russia would pair it with her wedding ring soon enough. She sighed and pulled it off.

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I'm honestly not sure how frequently this is going to get updated, but hopefully I'll be able to keep steady and keep going with it. Please review!


	2. The Wedding

I meant to update sooner, but then I went on vacation. I did, however, get to work on rewriting another chapter.

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England could feel her heart thudding in her chest as she stood beside Russia at the altar. Despite the number of well-known and high level officials attending, they held the ceremony in a nondescript church for a false sense of privacy. England appreciated even as her throat felt tight, hair too heavily piled on top of her head, and her dress stiff. She managed to make it through all of the words without stumbling and felt relieved when the priest finished.

She turned to Russia to leave and caught his eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and cupped her face. She held her breath as he pressed his lips against hers for barely a moment. He pulled away and took one of her hands in his. He led them outside to the limousine, and she kept her head down to avoid having to see any of their guests.

She sighed as soon as the car's door had closed behind her. "You alright?" Russia asked as the driver began to pull away.

"I'm fine," she responded, running her fingers over her hair to check that every strand was still in place.

"Now, we only have to survive the reception," he said as he smoothed down his tie and began to awkwardly smile.

She rolled her eyes. Nobody would go up to him to badger him about who he had decided to marry.

The limousine stopped far too soon for her liking. "Here we are," the driver announced.

"Let's get this over with," England said as she climbed out. Russia came around to her side and offered her his arm. She hooked her arm over his and they walked in together as their guests trickled in.

"Judging by the size of the crowd, we only have a few minutes before the first dance," she told him as they walked towards the dance floor.

"Less than that," Russia said as a large group entered and the DJ faded out the song he had been playing. "Green Sleeves" began to play, and the newly wedded couple moved into position to dance. It wasn't the most suiting song for a first dance, but England loved the melody. Russia led her through simple steps, and she followed along easily. She didn't bother looking up to Russia's face and unintentionally caught sight of a few faces within the crowd. When the song ended, she sighed and dropped Russia's hand almost immediately.

She turned around to find America standing behind her. "Come on," America said, taking hold of one of her arms and dragging her off the dance floor.

"Do you mind?" England asked, irritated, as America led her over to a table where Canada waited for them.

"Take a seat," America ordered, plopping down into the chair nearest her. England did as asked, albeit much more gracefully. America squinted at her for a moment before asking, "Any particular reason you decided not to tell us you were marrying _Russia_ before sending us the invitations?"

"I didn't know how to tell you," England answered honestly. She had thought of ways time and again, but found she had run out of time before sending all of the invitations.

"Why are you even interested in him?" America asked, reaching out an arm and laying her hand on the table before England.

"I have my reasons,"

"That bullshit's not gonna cut it this time," America said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, do you even like him?" Canada asked, leaning her forearms on the table.

"Sometimes," England answered vaguely. She could outlast them on sheer stubbornness.

"When was there ever a time you liked him?" America asked too loudly. "Even if that were true, that's enough for you to marry him?"

"Apparently so," England said coolly, raising her eyebrows.

America huffed and ran her fingers through her hair, ruining her coif some. "But why him?"

"Just because you don't like him doesn't mean I can't either," England responded. "I'm not saying he's perfect, but he's not all bad either."

"We're not saying he's all bad," Canada said, holding up her hands. "We're just not sure he'll be good for you."

"Good for me? Do you mind telling me then who on Earth would be?" England asked, more shocked than she'd care to admit. "I can't even think of anyone who might be on more even ground with me without a little too much history between us."

"Fine, have it your way," America said grouchily, throwing her hands up. "It's too late now, anyways."

"Then I think we're done here," England said, getting up from her seat. She made her way to the refreshments to get herself a drink and found Russia sitting with China and a few others at a table near the punch. She ignored him and got herself a drink, finding the flavor almost too tart.

"Care to dance?" Russia asked, tapping her shoulder.

"Might as well," she said, discarding her glass.

The music had changed to modern music with faster beats and more bass, and she realized she hadn't ever seen Russia dance to anything newer than 1950s pop. He led her to the edge of the dance floor for a piece of what little space was left. He put his hands on her waist, and she settled for placing her hands on his biceps; realizing that keeping her hands up on his shoulders would not be comfortable. They kept themselves comfortably distanced from each other and in time with the music.

"You alright?" he asked, and she looked up to find that he'd found one of his creepier smiles to wear.

"It could be worse," she said, loud enough to be heard over the music. She felt adrift and uncomfortable, and as little as she wanted to share with Russia, he likely was the only person that could understand her right now. "I just don't want to talk."

He nodded and said nothing more. She grew used to his heavy hands on her waist but had trouble keeping her grip from slipping. She took to watching the couples around them. All of them danced closer together than she did with Russia. She had to remind herself that he was her husband and that maybe they were supposed to be the ones pressed together.

She glanced up at the tall man. His smile was still painted across his face, but his eyes were shifting about the rest of the room. She suddenly had a thought that maybe his smile was a nervous tick of sorts. She rubbed her hand over his arm to gain his attention. "Are you alright?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm alright."

"Are you uncomfortable with all these people?" she asked.

Russia tilted his head. "They're a little close."

"We don't have to dance, you know," she said, and his smile dropped a little. "I knew I shouldn't have invited so many people."

"It's not your fault," Russia immediately assured her. "This isn't exactly just for us, and who would we have gotten away with not inviting?"

"Unfortunately, true,"

The song changed, and they adjusted to the new tempo accordingly.

"May I cut in?" France asked, appearing beside Russia.

"If you'd like," Russia responded with his usual smile and a nod. He released England, and moved away, possibly back to his table earlier.

England kept her focus on France. She crossed her arms, and glared at him, "What do you want?"

"Only a dance," he replied. He reached out and wrapped his arms around England's waist, holding her much more tightly than Russia had and pulling her in towards his chest. The limited space only allowed for them to sway in time with the beat. England made it even more difficult by refusing to uncross her arms and leave space between their chests.

"Oh, don't be like that," France crooned. England only hunched her shoulders in response. He continued, "Everyone's curious, you know."

England raised an eyebrow. "What has made the great and terrible England settle?" he smirked, looking much too mischievous for England's liking.

She scowled. She attempted to shove him away, but he wound his arms tighter. "It couldn't be the money, Russia isn't that wealthy. It's certainly not for looks, or the sex," he mused, with a look in his eye that told her he definitely wasn't playing nice, "Is little England lonely?"

England gritted her teeth. "I hadn't thought you were still so petty. You're the one who wanted company. It's not my problem if you're too much of a coward to seek it."

France's teasing smile disappeared, and a hard look came across his features. "I did seek it."

"From the wrong person entirely," she retorted. "I don't have anything more to say to you about that."

"Fine," he snapped, glaring at her. "Good luck with your marriage. I'm sure you'll need it."

He jerked his arms away from her and walked off the dance floor. She rolled her eyes, completely done with his dramatics on the subject. "England."

She spun around to find Russia coming towards her. "They want to take pictures, now."

"Fantastic," she groused, following him back through the people and the tables to the photographers.

"It can't be that bad," he told her.

"It absolutely can," she returned before the photographer began giving them orders to get into position.

The photographer had England and Russia placed in the center with his hands on her waist. All the bridesmaids and grooms flanked them in a manner England guessed was meant to lessen the height difference. It took two or three tries to get America to stop glaring at Russia to smile towards the camera. England even had some trouble smiling rather than baring her teeth. She sighed heavily when the photographer announced that he had finished, dropping her smile and her shoulders.

The rest of the group moved back towards the party. "We don't have to go back," Russia said, stilling her. "We danced, we took our pictures. I think we can survive missing any cake."

"You don't want to have the full experience?" she asked, turning to him.

"I don't care, not particularly," he said with a shrug. "Would it be worth staying just for some cake?"

Considering her two recent hostile engagements, she shook her head. "We're married. We had the wedding. Let's go."

He nodded, his smile softening. He called for the limo driver as they headed outside, and the driver met them there. Russia pulled open the door for England, and when she was seated, he shut it. He went around the back of the limo to get in through the other side. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a shrug. "Anywhere."

"Very well, Miss," the driver said, nodding before stepping on the gas.

With hardly anyone noticing, the just married couple disappeared from their own party.

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So there's the rewrite, reshaped the interactions some. Please review!


	3. Day One

It's a little transitional, but there's still plenty of interaction to enjoy.

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England climbed out of the taxi cab, shutting the door behind her. She moved around to the trunk to help the driver pull out her luggage. At least, he didn't have to help her move all of her belonging into a new house. When they finished, she thanked him and handed him the fare. He nodded, returned to his cab, and drove off.

She sighed and stared warily up at the Russia's house. She brushed back her hair and squared her shoulders before gathering her luggage and heading up to the front door. She set them down for a moment to ring the doorbell. Russia pulled open the door, revealing that he'd already changed out of the uniform he'd worn for the wedding. "Did you get everything alright?"

They had forgone the honeymoon given their work schedules, and after ditching the latter half of their wedding reception the only appropriate option seemed to be getting England's belonging's into Russia's house. The limousine had dropped her off at her hotel, and she'd had to call a cab to get to Russia's. He had offered to help carry her things and pick her up, but she had refused to let him do either.

"Yeah, everything went fine. Do you have any place to put the dress?" she asked, holding up her wedding dress inside of its garment bag.

"Yes, we can put it in my closet, if you'd like," he said, moving to shut the door behind her.

"I guess that's fine," she said with a shrug.

"You can follow me," he said, picking up her suitcase. He left her with the wedding dress and a duffle bag to carry up. She followed him up a staircase and down the hall into a rather large master bedroom. He set her suitcase down by the bed and opened a door to reveal a walk in closet. "You can hand it anywhere it'll fit. We can find a better spot for it later unless you want to take it back to your place."

"Maybe, I'll decide later," she said, setting down her duffle bag by her suitcase.

"Are you going to take down your hair?" he asked as she passed him and moved into the closet.

"I will," she said, moving down the row of suits to find a place to hang her dress. She resorted to placing it on the end of the rack, making note of how much room was left for the rest of her clothes that would need to be hung. She added, "It's not like you haven't undone your hair."

He ran his hand over his hair which had been tamed and styled back from his face. Usually he just seemed to let it go whichever way the wind blew, literally. "I just have to shower," he said with a shrug.

"You have it very easy then," she responded as she left the closet. "Do you mind if I start unpacking?"

"Not at all, the empty bureau is for you. Do you want anything to eat? Did you have anything at the reception?"

"No, if you want to make something simple that's fine,"

"I'll just make dinner then," he said as he moved towards the door to leave. "I'll come get you when I finish."

She nodded, and when he shut the door, she dropped down onto the bed. She sighed, relieved to be alone even if for a few moments, and began to pull out the bobby pins holding up her hair. She got her hair removed from its pile, and though it hung in awkward waves, her scalp felt so much better. She tucked the bobby pins away inside a pocket and would find a place for them later. She got up and hauled her suitcase onto the bed. She would describe most of her clothes as business to business casual, and that made for a fair number of garments that needed to be hung up in a closet. She had managed to fit them all into three garment bags and then fit those inside her suitcase. She unpacked the garment bags into the closet one right after the other. The duffle bag had all of her casual clothes, jeans and t-shirts, and she stored those away in the bureau along with whatever else didn't need to be hung.

She had a near moment of crisis when she pulled out her bag of toiletries and had no idea where to put them. She decided to leave it where it was and put away all of her underclothing instead. She'd finished off all of her unpacking, except for her bag of toiletries that stayed on the foot of the bed, when Russia knocked on the door frame. "Food's ready," he announced.

"I'll follow you then," she responded, and he led her down to the kitchen. "You've got dark wood upstairs, dark hardwood floors, and then you've got light wood for you cabinets."

He shrugged. "It doesn't have to match, and the floor's not that dark. I had dark cabinets for a while, but I like these better."

"Why? To make the room look bigger?" she asked, looking around and trying to estimate the size of the room. "It's already big."

"Not really, but I think they look a little better with the steel," he said, gesturing to his fridge though the stove he was moving towards matched in color.

"Well, it's much better than my kitchen that's for sure," England commented. "What did you make?"

"Something simple," he answered before elaborating, "Lamb, green beans, and mashed potatoes."

She laughed. "That's simple? I meant something microwaved."

He dished her a plate anyways. "Those don't taste as good. I've never liked them."

"No one seems to except for America and I," England said as she accepted the plate from him. "Canada only likes certain things microwaved. Where are we eating?"

"We can sit in here at the island or we can go into the dining room," he said as he began dishing out his own plate.

"Here's fine," she said, moving around to take a seat towards the middle of the island counter. As soon as she tried to take her seat, she realized how high the stools and counters were. The stools were closer to her waist than hips in height. She hoisted herself up into her stool as Russia placed his plate beside hers. She nearly over balanced and toppled to the floor, but righted herself in the nick of time. "Your stools are a little too high."

"They need to match the counters," he explained, "I'm too tall for the standard height."

"That is very true,"

Russia chuckled and began to eat. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that the meal looked better than anything she or her siblings could cook. She took a bite of the lamb first. After finishing her bite, she turned to Russia and said, "It's good. I didn't know you could cook like this."

"I don't normally cook for other people," he explained. "Do you normally eat what other people cook?"

"Yes, I don't recommend you try anything my siblings or I have made,"

"Noted,"

She made it through only three quarters of her meal. "I'm not going to be able to eat the rest of this."

"Leave it out, I'll eat it or put it away,"

"You'll eat that much?"

"Probably, I eat a lot,"

"If you say so," she said, holding up her hands. "I guess I'll just clear the silverware then. Where's your dishwasher?"

"I haven't emptied it yet so just leave them in the sink,"

"Alright," she said, moving over to the sink. "Do you mind if I look around a bit."

He took a moment to answer. "That's fine, but don't go into the basement. I've got a lot of stuff piled up down there, and I'm not sure it's safe."

"Alright, I can do that."

"Are you going to give me a review afterwards?" he asked, half smiling at her in amusement. His smile seemed genuine rather than the creepy and perhaps nervous tick of a smile he'd worn at the reception.

"I'm going to say no just to make sure you're not tempted to review my house when we move there,"

"I would have thought you'd have nothing to worry about,"

"Well, only the kitchen is bad," she said as she headed to leave the kitchen. "It's just very full otherwise."

"Alright," he said, turning back to his food.

She took her own short personal tour of Russia's house, noting the blandly painted walls and nearly generic paintings on the first floor and most of the second. She ended on the master bedroom to double check the contrast between his room and the rest of the house. The doors that had been stained dark, the deep red bedspread over an extra-long king sized bed, the bookshelves and bureaus and bed frame that actually bothered to match the doors, and the white rug that looked like faux bear fur at the foot of the bed that maybe was a joke made it seem like this is the only place he had decided to show that he had some sort of personality. Maybe the basement had the rest of it.

Russia also happened to be there, sitting on the bed cross legged and reading a book. "Did you finish your tour?"

"Yeah, um, quick question, where should I stick my suitcase and duffle bag and toiletries?"

"I keep my suitcase in the basement. I can put yours down there. The duffle bag can probably go in the back of the closet, and you can just put your toiletries in the bathroom," he answered, setting aside his book and getting up from the bed.

Once he'd left with her suitcase, she considered for a short moment putting her things in the master bathroom. She quickly decided against that as she did not at all feel ready to be sharing both a bedroom and a bathroom with Russia. She quickly stowed her toiletries away in the hall bath where she would not have a chance of running into her new husband. She then went back to the master bedroom to stuff her duffle bag into the closet. After finishing, she froze. She had nothing to do and nowhere to go.

Of course, Russia came back into the room at that moment. "Did you get everything done?"

"Yeah," she said, swallowing thickly and her mind whirring through options. "Do you mind if I shower to get the last of this stuff out of my hair?"

"That's fine," he said, moving back towards the bed and his book.

She grabbed pajamas and escaped out of the bedroom and down to the hall bath. She didn't take too long of a shower and regretted not bringing a book with her to occupy herself as she avoided the bedroom. She waited up as long as she could stand, hoping it would be late enough that Russia had decided to fall asleep without her. She tip toed back upstairs and didn't see any light coming from the room. She crept into the bedroom, and she slowly and cautiously climbed into bed.

"You finally decided to come to bed?"

England nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Russia's voice. He sounded half asleep, but she answered regardless. "Yeah, I did," she whispered, trying to calm herself, and pulled the sheets up to her chin.

"Goodnight," he told her softly.

"Night," she forced herself to return.

She made sure to keep her back to him and stay as close to her edge of the bed as possible.

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I hope you enjoyed. Please review!


	4. At Night

Now we're kinda getting into the start of something.

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"Oh," England said upon entering the kitchen and finding Russia there, leaning back against the island counter with his phone pressed to his ear. She took a step back. "I'm sorry."

He held up his hand, motioning for her to wait. She clasped her hands behind her back and bit her lip as she waited for him to finish his call. When he hung up and looked towards her, she said, "I was just going to see if I could make tea."

"I think I have an electric kettle somewhere. I'm not sure if I have tea bags though," he said, tucking his phone into his pocket and moving away from the counter.

"You don't have any tea?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't drink it very often so I don't get it very often," he explained, beginning to search through cupboards.

"We'll have to fix that. I'll make a list of teas to get,"

"A whole list?" he asked as he shut another cabinet door.

"Yes, I like having a little variety,"

"Well, I have earl grey," he said, pulling out a battered box and holding it up for her to see.

"And the kettle?"

"I think it's downstairs. Wait here," he said, brushing past her.

She sighed and strode over to check the box of tea. She frowned, even if it did seem to be useable. She had thought he drank tea more frequently than that. Still, she waited for him to return for only a few minutes. He even rinsed out the kettle and filled it for her. "Thank you," she told him, forcing herself to smile.

"You're welcome. I'll go grocery shopping, and if you make a list I'll get the teas for you. I'm going to make dinner soon, too."

"Alright, do you want any tea?" she asked as she began to heat the water.

"No, I'm fine,"

"Ok then,"

She tried to ignore him as she finished making her tea, looking over her shoulder every so often only to see him focused on his phone. As soon as she'd finished, he started making dinner, and she scurried out of the kitchen. She ended up returning to the office Russia had given her to work in, mug clutched tightly in her hands. She sat there in the stiff office chair, comparing the tea and the mug to her much tastier tea back home and more easily held cup. Frustrated, she tried to will away the thoughts of homesickness she shouldn't have after all of her experiences abroad. She hadn't even been gone long. She took deep breaths, taking in the scent of the tea and enjoying the warmth in her hands.

Eventually, she did have to go down and share an awkward dinner with Russia. She retreated back to her office immediately after. This time she did so without the company of her tea. She attempted to entertain herself with her laptop, but she ran out of interest and energy. Keeping aware and tense drained her considerably. She just couldn't get comfortable, and it made adjusting to the move difficult.

She shut down her laptop and moved into Russia's bedroom. She changed quickly into her pajamas and pulled off the jewelry she wouldn't wear to bed. Afterwards, she went to the hall bath to finish readying for bed. She left the bathroom to find Russia entering the hall.

"You're going to bed already?" he asked.

"I don't have anything to do, and I'm a little tired," she answered with a shrug.

He looked away then turned back to her. "Are you alright, being here?"

She tilted her head, debating on how much truth to tell. "It could be better, yeah."

"Is there anything that would make it better?"

"Not really, it's mostly a matter of sleep," she shook her head. "It doesn't have anything to do with you. I don't really like sleeping in a bed with another person, and I'm definitely not used to it."

Another part she wouldn't tell him was that his mattress felt horrendously hard. Her mattress was soft in a comfortably worn way, and it was just too great a difference. Still, she wasn't about to try mattress shopping with Russia.

"You must sleep lighter than me," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I haven't minded."

"It's your bed, too."

"Fair point," he said with a nod and a weak attempt at a nice smile. "So there's nothing I can do to help."

"Stick to your side of the bed a little more," she said, speaking more sharply than she intended.

He looked surprised for a second. "I don't know how to help that. Maybe we can try different sleeping arrangements."

"What, like switching sides of the bed?" she asked, leaning her weight back onto one foot and crossing her arms.

"No, I meant," he paused, glancing away then looking back at her. "In relation to each other."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you suggesting sleeping like an actual couple?"

"I suppose, yes."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not ready for that at all. I'll deal. Goodnight."

"Okay," he said, looking away again. "Goodnight."

She walked back to the bedroom and climbed into the bed. She did her best to find a comfortable position and waited for sleep to arrive. It took some time, but she fell asleep before Russia joined her. She woke at some point in the middle of the night with his hand pressed up against her back. She pushed herself up into a half sitting position and came very close to smacking him. Instead, she picked up his hand and did her best to drop it over the general area of his chest. Russia responded by starting awake and mumbling something in Russian. "England?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Can't sleep," she groused, dropping her fist onto her pillow. She sighed and flopped back down, curling up and pulling the sheet over herself.

"Sorry, there's nothing I can do to help?"

"I don't think so," she said tiredly.

"Well, try to relax," he murmured, reaching out and placing a hand on her waist.

She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Was that meant to help?"

He didn't respond immediately and she rolled her eyes, willing to try anything to sleep easier. She did actually remember the last time she'd slept in a strange bed with someone else, and she'd done it with their bodies pressed together. "If you're going to do it at all, do it properly," she said, tugging his hand forward so that his arm fell over her waist.

"Okay," he said, shifting positions behind her.

She surprised herself by feeling better with him touching her, knowing where he was and maybe even feeling a little grounded; a little normal. He relaxed quickly, tucking his hand comfortably against her. She took a deep breath, reminded herself that she could sleep with Russia at her back, and fell asleep. She woke in the morning alone.

He didn't mention how she'd pulled him over to her when they saw each other next at dinner. She couldn't bring herself to mention it. Of course, she tried falling asleep before he joined her in bed again, but this time it didn't work. "Still awake?" he asked as he climbed in beside her.

"Obviously, did you want something?"

"No, just checking," he said, putting his arm over her waist again without even attempting to stay on his side first.

"You're really alright with doing this?" she asked, refusing to turn around and face him.

"If it helps," he said, shrugging. "Does it?"

"I don't know yet,"

"Well, we can try it out then,"

She gave up and rolled over to face him, grateful for the darkness. "You're being awfully nice about all this. Usually you just come off even more stubborn than America and try to do whatever you want."

"I don't want to…you call it starting off on the wrong foot, don't you?"

"Yes,"

"I don't want to do that. We're going to have a very long time to spend together,"

She squinted, trying to discern anything from his facial expression. All she saw were his closed eyes. "I guess that's sweet of you, or maybe just well planned."

"There's no point in doing otherwise. We'd just end up miserable, and that was not my intention," he said, opening his eyes to look at her.

"That's true enough, thank you, I guess, for trying to make it easier anyways."

"You're welcome, sleep well," he told her, closing his eyes again.

"If only," she said with a sigh, turning from him.

"It'll get better," he assured her. He began to brush his thumb gently against her, and she could feel her cheeks heat. She tucked her face against her pillow and said nothing.

She woke alone again in the morning, but she felt better. She could almost smell herself on her pillow, and she took a moment to breathe deep and smile.

It took a little over a week, but one morning she did wake to find Russia still in bed with her. She had tucked herself against him and he still had an arm over her waist. "Are you late?" she asked quietly, wondering what the protocol was now.

"No, I'm on time. I've been going in early."

"Why?"

"I thought it would be easier."

"Good morning, then,"

He chuckled. "Good morning."

He got out of bed, and England sat up shortly after. She caught her reflection in the mirror and paused. She tried not to think about how she felt comfortable with seeing herself in Russia's bed. She definitely didn't think that maybe she'd eventually be comfortable seeing herself with Russia in that mirror.

* * *

I definitely think it's better than before. Hope you enjoyed, and please review!


	5. But Why?

It's a little short, but I think I cover some interesting things.

* * *

"I think the honeymoon period is over," England commented to Russia as she entered the kitchen.

"We didn't go on a honeymoon," he said, frowning at her for a moment before turning back to cooking.

"No, but it's been two weeks since our wedding, and I have people texting me constantly now. People think things are going to start going wrong."

"In what way?"

"They seem to think you're going to hurt me, and I don't appreciate their concern," she said dryly, responding to another text.

"You're unhappy that people worry about you?"

"Yes, when they act like I couldn't handle a situation myself,"

"Ah, like that, yes," he said with a nod. "You're not in any danger here, but if you were, I still think you would come out fine. You usually do."

"Thanks, I guess," she said with a half-smile as she pulled out napkins and silverware. "Does that include the basement though?"

"I think you could survive my basement," he said, beginning to serve dinner. "There isn't anything I should be concerned about, is there?"

"I don't think so," she said, shaking her head and placing the napkins and silverware. "America likes to pop up out of the blue, but I don't think she'd go as far as to show up here at your house."

"That's something, at least," he said, coming around and setting down their plates.

"Thanks," she said, taking her seat.

"Were you expecting this sort of trouble?" he asked as he sat beside her.

"I was hoping it wouldn't happen, but oh well. Portugal and Canada seem to be taking it best, and France hasn't actually said anything yet,"

"Does that mean something?"

She shrugged. "France almost always makes sure that I know his opinion."

"Then it's disapproval,"

"No, I think I just pissed him off a little the last time I spoke with him,"

"I think you might have done America worse. China's told me she still complains about us whenever she's reminded about our marriage."

"That would explain the lines of exclamation points she keeps texting me,"

"Is it too terrible of me to enjoy it just a little bit?"

"I might actually envy you on that. Right now, I'm just irritated by her in general."

"I thought you always got along with her,"

England made a face at that. "If only, I don't think we've gotten on longer than a month or two at a time since her War of Independence. How are your sisters taking it, by the way?"

"I've been avoiding talking about it with them," he said, shaking his head slightly. "What about your siblings?"

"The same," she said, rolling her hand.

"I didn't think we'd get so much attention for getting married."

"Really?" she asked, giving him a side eyed look.

"It hasn't happened with anybody else's marriage," he pointed out, pausing in his eating.

"We aren't exactly anybody else,"

"I understand that, but-,"

"But what?"

"Shouldn't the other marriages have caused more of a stir?"

"No, you could see them all a mile off. Not only did we come out of left field, I'm pretty sure people don't actually want us being good together,"

"More than America and China?" he asked, raising his brows at her.

She tilted her head. "Maybe not, but I definitely think people liked us better during the Great Game than the Great War,"

"Nobody liked me during the Great War," he said, looking back to his food.

"That's not the point at all," she said, shaking her head. "You're not exactly easy for most nations to handle, and you know that they think you're scary. They ask me to talk to you because I'm not scared of you or as scary as you or even just grumpy enough to get away with talking to you. Do you really think they'd want to people like that together along with the slightest chance of us going against them?"

"Doesn't that still apply to America and China? Why not fear every couple then or try and stop them all together? Why is it a problem when it's us?" he asked, frowning.

"Okay, well, I didn't think about that when everybody else was getting married," she said, running her fingers over her chin.

He shrugged. "Because you didn't have anything to fear, I didn't either aside from my sister having an actual argument to marry me,"

"I guess that only proves the point that it's our marriage versus marriages between nations being the problem," she said, biting her lip.

"It can't be just because we were empires though. That covers most of the northern hemisphere,"

"I think it's more empire for me and Soviet Union for you,"

"Fine, but it's not like we haven't changed,"

"Power and titles wise maybe, but you still smile creepy and I'm a smart ass,"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't smile creepy. I also think you just call people on their bullshit. I appreciate it, by the way."

"Thank you, at least someone does," she said, smiling and placing a hand against her collarbone. "So then, is it possible that people think our marriage is a problem for non-nation reasons?"

"Long standing relationship biases, you mean?"

"That and maybe people just think we've made a huge mistake. Like we'll get the first divorce or something and put all of their marriages in danger," she proposed, tapping a finger to her chin.

"That sounds wrong. I haven't heard anything yet about citizens being upset because of our marriage. We haven't put anything in jeopardy," he said stubbornly.

"It's the only thing I could think of. I mean, I understand America, but I don't see why everyone else is so wary. They're talking like they already know we're going to crash and burn and get everyone hurt after only a couple of weeks."

"We're the plane falling out of the sky?" he asked, turning to her and leaning an elbow on the table. "I didn't think we were doing that badly."

"No, but we are still only coming out of the honeymoon period where everyone takes it easy and not too seriously. We're like university roommates before the homework gets bad and everyone starts losing sleep and getting grumpy. We haven't really gotten far enough to judge yet,"

"I'm not sure that's true. We're more mature than university students," he said, showing a hint of a smile. "And you've already started losing sleep."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm grumpy?"

He held up a hand. "You called yourself that first."

"Fine, I'm just saying we have a long way to go,"

"And?"

"Everything everyone keeps texting is unfounded as of yet," she said, rolling her eyes and trying to hold back a smile. "I think they should let us work it out on our own."

"Well said,"

She sighed, her smile dropping. "I don't even know why they're bothering me. I didn't do this to any of them. Actually, for some of them I helped work out their problems rather than try to tell them they're doing everything wrong."

"Think of it in non-nation terms then, human ones. What does this situation remind you of?"

"Well, I'd say," she said, but paused as she tried to think of what sort of human family this would work out to be. "Oh my God."

"What is it?"

She stared at him wide eyed for a moment. "I think you're the step-father."

"What?"

"No, but think of all the movies where the kids get all upset when their parent tries to remarry. It reminds me of that,"

"But isn't that because they think the parent is trying to replace their old partner? I'm not replacing anyone, I hope."

"Well, I was thinking it was more along the lines of you're going to be taking up my time now. Like, my attention isn't just for them," she said with a shrug.

"I am living with you, and I'm not that interested in having any of them moving in with us. I'm not sure that would be what's bothering them enough criticize our relationship."

"Okay, then, maybe they just don't think I can have a marriage, but that seems really petty."

"That's because they don't think you can have a marriage with me,"

She pressed her lips together. "That still sounds petty and unfair. Besides, I should be able to choose whoever I want to marry without getting badgered about it."

"Maybe they just don't like thinking of you as my wife,"

England clenched her jaw. "I sure as hell hope not. I've married you, but I'm not "Russia's wife" now or ever. And that is exactly what America is thinking anyways. I know it."

"How? That seems really specific," he said, watching her carefully.

"I've known her practically since she's been alive. I had to sit through the whole  
Cold War with her. I know what lines she drew," England explained with a slight nod. "I know she's had trouble erasing them, and if she's talking with the others, well, that would explain it."

"She wouldn't erase the line even for you?"

England closed her eyes for a moment. "She's always had a problem with me in terms of our non-nation relationship. It's like she can't understand that I'm not just her former sister, that I've never been just her former sister."

"Seeing only one bit of you and refusing to see anymore," he added.

She stared at him. "Yes," she said quietly, licking her lips before continuing. "But you've never been just one thing."

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "Neither have you."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed. Please review!


	6. Over

Alright next chapter is up.

* * *

England had taken to a room near the back of the house that Russia had seemed to have forgotten about. He'd left barely more than a couch there, and the walls had remained a plain and spotless white. Still, it had large windows overlooking the backyard and received so much natural light. It made her ache for her garden, but the forgotten space felt more her own than the gifted office or the room she slept in.

She drank her tea in the room, sitting quietly and listening to her music. She went there when she couldn't find a thing to say to Russia. Once or twice, she'd even brought down her laptop to work there. She also spent a good portion of time in the room wishing she had brought a hundred books with her as Russia's collection had nothing to offer her.

"You're spending a lot of time in that empty room," Russia commented as he pulled the bed sheet over their shoulders one night.

"You call it the empty room?"

"It's accurate," he said, putting his arm over her waist.

She rolled her eyes despite smiling. "Why is it empty? If you've got so much stuff in the basement why didn't you put some of it in there?"

"I don't know, nothing fit with the windows," he said before sighing.

"Not even shelves?"

"I think they'd have to be built in,"

"That would be nice. Maybe some plants, too,"

He responded, but in Russian. She sighed. "Good night."

She eventually made it beyond the laundry room in the basement. Russia had been accurate in his description and one touch had been nearly enough to topple one of the piles he'd created. She couldn't be sure what all there was in the space it was so cluttered, and absolutely everything had a coating of dust. Despite wondering what could be inside that could fill the empty room; she let it be for the moment.

The end of the honeymoon period hit soon after that. Things started to feel somewhat normal, less new and unexpected. England didn't even consciously notice until Russia came home from work and having grown so used to her presence, began trying to talk to her in Russia. She thought he was on the phone at first before she noticed that he wasn't even holding his phone. "Care to repeat that?" she asked in English with her clearest enunciation.

"Oh, sorry," he said, looking a little surprised. "I just wanted to know if there was something you wanted for dinner."

"Anything really, I don't mind," she said, still smiling about it as he hurriedly retreated to the kitchen.

He did it again the day after, and she raised an eyebrow while waiting for him to notice. "Sorry," he apologized moments later. "It's hard to spend all day speaking Russian to come home and switch to English."

"While that's understandable, that doesn't mean I know Russian any more than I did before,"

"Maybe you should consider learning it," he proposed.

"Not likely,"

"Still, you should," he said, leaving her with a slight smile. She rolled her eyes and left the conversation there.

When he came home a third time and spoke to her in Russian, she told him, "Third time's a charm. I'm completely fluent in Russian now."

He looked at her flatly for a moment. "That's so funny," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well what were you expecting to happen?" she said and shrugged.

He tilted his head for a moment. "I suppose I should have seen it coming."

"So what were you saying?"

"I thought you would've known. You have claimed you're fluent in Russian," he told her, smiling smugly.

"Then it must not be important," she concluded, crossing her arms.

"Perhaps, I'll tell you when dinner's ready," he said then tacked on. "In English."

She huffed. She was supposed to be the one enjoying this.

He came home speaking Russian again, and this time she treated him to a sharp look instead of words. He sighed. "It's better when you say something. Are you sure you don't want to learn Russian just to make our lives easier?"

"What for? You already speak English,"

"Then I guess I'll just wait until you change your mind,"

"What makes you think I would?"

"I have a theory about it. Is there anything you'd like for dinner?"

"Don't change the subject,"

"Why not? I want to eat," he asked, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She brushed his hand off. "Fine, but I won't change my mind."

He made it most of the evening without using Russian. However, once they were in bed, he spoke the words that she assumed meant he wished her goodnight. "You certainly are stubborn," she commented as she adjusted the placement of his hand. "Are you going to teach me Russian through immersion?"

He chuckled. "I'll teach you whichever way you'd like. I just want you to learn."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to spend half of the rest of your life here with me and you should learn how to speak my language. I've learned yours."

"You didn't learn it because we married, and that's not going to change my mind."

"But I don't need to change your mind. You'll do it yourself. You can't help wanting to know what's going on. Your own curiosity will do it."

"Lies," she said, poking his arm. "It won't."

"Tell me when it happens. I know where we can get textbooks,"

"It's not going to happen."

He wished her goodnight again, and she felt sure he'd done it in Russian just to spite her. In the morning, she had planned on sleeping in as it was Saturday, but she woke earlier than expected to Russia sitting up in bed. "Do you always get up this early on the weekend?" she asked, rolling over to squint at him through her sleepy bleariness.

"Usually, do you sleep in?" he asked, climbing out of bed.

"Yes, there's no point in getting up now," she said, stifling a yawn and watching him stretch. She caught sight of the strip of skin he revealed when his shirt rode up.

"You don't work out or anything?" he asked, leaning his hands on the bed.

"So that's where you've been going; the gym. I don't work out. India got me into yoga, and I do that in the evenings," she said, sitting up seeing as she was awake at this point.

"I don't know if there's any place to do yoga here," Russia said, ruffling his hair at the back of his head as he straightened up.

"It's fine," she said, waving him off. "I'm going to make tea while you shower."

"You should come with me to pick more out next time," he said as he crossed the room towards the bathroom.

She mumbled a response that could be taken as affirmation as she got out of bed and plodded towards the door. She had nearly finished with her cup of tea when Russia came down to meet her in the kitchen, already dressed for going to the gym in loose athletic wear.

"Would you like anything for breakfast?"

"You're going to treat me to breakfast now too?" she asked.

"Only if you want it,"

"I'll take it," she said as she took the first sip of her tea.

"Okay," he said, beginning to pull things out.

She decided to take her seat at the counter with her tea, provide him with a bit of company. She didn't expect to spend her time watching his hands as he cooked. She had always had a preference for rings on fingers, but she felt a little too preoccupied with Russia's wedding band. She absent mindedly set down her tea to rotate her engagement ring around her finger as she'd done countless times since she'd received it.

"What are you thinking about?" Russia asked, causing her to jump.

"Um, do you always wear your ring when you work out?" she asked, receiving her plate from him.

"I don't normally wear rings, but I've figured it's best not to wear it when I work out," he said, taking his seat. "Do you normally think about rings?"

"Is it wrong to take an interest in my husband's wedding ring?" she asked, glancing at it again before picking up her fork.

"Only if you don't like the look of it," he commented, holding up his hand and brushing his thumb against his ring.

"I assure you there's nothing wrong with the look of it," she said, smiling.

"Good," he said, turning towards her. "And nothing's wrong with the look of yours."

"Thanks," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"What? I'm appreciating the fact that you only wear rings I've given you on your left hand," he said and put his fingers under her right wrist to raise her hand. "But the amethyst does look nice. Do you ever take all of your rings off?"

"Only to clean them," she said, pulling her hand away. "Why does it matter? You don't have a reason to want them off."

"Is there a yet attached to the end of that?" he asked cheekily.

"It's entirely too early to be having this sort of conversation," she said. "I still need to finish breakfast."

"We do have plenty of time to finish it later,"

She gave him a sharp look but he ignored it and continued eating his breakfast.

* * *

I'm a little nervous about updating regularly as I'm still stuck on chapter 9. Hopefully though I'll be able to keep moving.

Please review!


	7. Waking

Finally getting back to some longer chapters.

* * *

England heard a voice, quiet, deep, and near her ear. She knew she wasn't asleep but she wasn't ready to leave her soft sheets and warm pillow. She heard the man's gentle voice again and it sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. She smiled and curled up, readjusting her sheet over her as she moved.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and woke entirely.

"England," Russia said again.

"What?" she asked too sharply, clutching the sheet.

"Are you going to get up?"

It took her a moment to remember that it was Sunday. "In a little bit," she said, pulling the sheet closer to her now that she felt cool.

"Alright," he said, climbing out of bed.

For half a minute she wanted to fall back asleep, but when Russia disappeared into the bathroom she reached for her phone. She sent off a quick text to Portugal **have you ever had a thing for a voice?**

England didn't receive a text back immediately, and she wasn't quite awake enough to calculate what hour it actually was in Portugal. Then she spent a minute trying to remember if Portugal was actually in her own land at that particular moment. She forced herself to get out of bed and make her way down to the hall bath. Somewhere between shampooing her hair and Russia convincing her to go with him to do the grocery shopping, she forgot about the text she had sent.

"So what exactly am I looking at?" England asked as they made their way down the first aisle of the grocery.

"Food?" he asked, picking another item off the shelf.

"But there's Russian," she said, gesturing down the length of the aisle. "Everywhere."

"You're in a Russian grocery store," he said, sounding like he was trying to clamp down on chuckles.

"I know, but still, it's like everything's suddenly turned to code," she said, picking up a box of something. "No wonder America likes to use it aesthetically in her movies."

"That's why it's wrong in her movies. Put that back we don't need it," he said, moving further down the aisle.

England gave the box a questioning look but put it back. She followed him silently after that. She kept an eye out for all the other customers, but nobody paid them half as much attention as she did them. She kept close to Russia as he shopped, close enough to nearly walk into his back once. Fifteen minutes was enough to tempt her to pick a place to awkwardly stand in and play a game on her phone. Instead, she continued to follow Russia around. "Teas are in the next aisle," he announced.

"Great, does that mean we're almost done?" she asked, perking up.

"Just about,"

They rounded the corner and England still found herself disappointed in the sight of boxes of tea bags even though she had reminded herself that all they would have would be tea bags on the way over. "You sure you don't know any specialty stores?" she asked as she tried to figure out exactly which teas the store even had.

"I'm sure we can find one," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"I can go myself," she said, stepping towards the shelves.

"You think you can drive someplace? That's hilarious," he said. "The fact that you're used to driving on the wrong side is enough let alone the fact that you don't have any driving experience here."

"I have excellent reflexes. I also don't drive on the wrong side of the road," she said, giving him a sharp look.

"You don't drive on the right side," he said with a laugh.

"I thought non-native speakers weren't supposed to get puns. I'm not afraid to elbow you in the ribs you know," she said as she picked up a box of tea.

"You like peppermint tea?" he asked, leaning closer to read over her shoulder.

"It's peppermint?" she asked, flipping it over. "It doesn't look like peppermint."

"It says peppermint,"

She put the box back. "Let's keep it simple then. Earl grey, green tea, and chamomile."

"Alright," he said, moving away from her to pick out the boxes.

"Thanks," she told him as he set the boxes into their basket.

"You're welcome, and it's time to check out," he said, moving towards the exit. "Dmitri should be working."

"Who?"

"A cashier," he said, smiling. "I talk with him."

"Okay," she said, following him warily. She held in a sigh as Russia picked up his step, seemingly having found the person he had been looking for. The cashier Russia went to was a middle aged man of nearly the same height with dark hair and more breadth. They greeted each other loudly and heartily, and England tried to situate herself so as not be drawn into the conversation. The other man, Dmitri, noticed her and England could tell he asked about her even if she couldn't understand his Russian. Russia responded to his question, and Dmitri practically cheered before reaching over the counter to wrap Russia into a hug. He even ruffled his hair as he pulled away, and England felt her stomach drop when the cashier turned to her.

"Hello," he said in a thick accent. "I am Dmitri."

"Hi," England said weakly in response.

"I told him we got married. He wants to meet you and congratulate you," Russia said, placing a hand on her back and nudging her towards the cashier.

"Okay," she said and brushed back her bangs. She moved forward as much as she dared to. "Hi," she repeated, moving to hold out her hand. "I'm Carolyn."

"Carolyn," he mimicked before grinning broadly and reverting to Russian. He ignored her hand to place his hands on top of her shoulders. He then leaned over the counter to give her three kisses, alternating cheeks. She froze after the first kiss and clenched her hands. He picked up speaking jovially again after he'd finished kissing her and pressed his palm to her cheek before releasing her entirely.

He didn't stop speaking and Russia seamlessly rejoined the conversation. England moved to the far side of Russia and impatiently waited for him to finish. "What was that?" she hissed as they left the store, clutching the elbow of his sleeve.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, turning towards her.

"I expected a handshake, not," she took a deep breath and held up her hands. "Kissing."

"He was happy for us," he said, still smiling. "He complimented you, wished you luck, and congratulated you."

"None of that requires kissing. Why would he even?" she asked and gestured to him. "You don't do that."

"I have," he countered, shaking his head slightly. "I've just never done it to you, and he was just trying to congratulate you."

"That's fine, but he didn't need to kiss me to do that," she said, flustered.

Russia had shifted to a confused expression. "Are you embarrassed or something? He really didn't mean to offend you."

"I know that but I still didn't like it,"

"Fine, the next person we announce we're married to I'll make sure to tell them you don't like kisses," he said, holding out his arms.

"Thank you," she said, taking a deep breath and releasing it. "No hugs either."

He gave her a look like he was concerned about her. "Do you ever touch anyone?"

"Really?" she asked. "You can't remember that I slept with your arm around me just last night?"

"Yes, but that's," he cut himself off. "You don't do anything to congratulate people?"

"I tell them congratulations,"

He looked at her blankly for a moment. "Alright, let's just go home."

"Finally," she said, relaxing her shoulders.

They made it home without any more trouble. England felt her phone buzz with a text as they were putting away the last of the groceries. She finished up then pulled out her phone, heading away from the kitchen and Russia. The text from Portugal read **what did Russia do?**

England couldn't remember what she'd said in the first place and had to reread the reminder that she really had been attracted to Russia's voice that morning. **Woke me up by talking** she explained before sending another text. **This was a lot more fun when you had to guess who I was talking about**.

Portugal's text reached England as she took a seat on the couch in the empty room. She had texted, **you get over it do you have a language preference yet?**

**As in do I like to hear him speak Russian or English more?** England sent back.

**yeah so which one?**

**English because I understand it.**

**really? that's not any fun.**

**Im sorry my married life isn't entertaining enough for you** England said, rolling her eyes and smiling. She could easily imagine Portugal smirking back at her.

**Im just surprised that you havent learned russian yet.**

**Why would I? Russia seems to think Ill learn it too.**

**hes right.**

England gaped at the text she had received. **What do you mean hes right? Youre supposed to side with me**.

**no such obligation when youre wrong youre totally going to be frustrated by not knowing long before you move back home**.

She sighed and brushed back her bangs. She considered not answering but eventually texted back. **Well if thats true then at least Ill have listening to him to look forward to**.

**honestly Id give in just for that if I was in your place but you would learn his language to seduce him with it**.

**I would not and havent you already given in with your husband? Besides its still attractive in English its just more understandable**.

**let me know how learning Russian goes**.

England didn't respond, rolling her eyes as she tucked her phone away. She figured Portugal was probably laughing enough about her situation already. She could smell food cooking and headed for the kitchen. "You're actually cooking for lunch?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's not going to take that long," he said with a shrug.

"Usually I just throw something simple together or microwave something for lunch,"

"That doesn't taste any good though,"

"This is too fancy for lunch," she said, taking her usual seat anyways.

"You don't have to have it,"

"No, I'll take it,"

He chuckled and continued cooking. She pulled out her phone again to check her email. She didn't find anything new that was important. "So what are our plans for June?" she asked as she scrolled past an email from America.

"You mean the conference with everyone? Isn't it just the usual except that we share a room this time,"

"Yes and no, we actually have to see America in person again," she said, closing her eyes for a moment in attempt to block any thoughts about it.

"We can avoid her," he suggested.

"Because that's worked really well in the past. She does talk to me outside of meetings, and it's like the opposite poles of magnets with you except instead of attraction its antagonism," she said.

"Isn't it the same for you and France?"

England thought about it for a second. "Let's try not to put any labels on it."

"If you say so,"

"I do, but if it's necessary we can probably hole up in our hotel room to avoid her,"

"And do what?"

"I don't know," she said, smiling. "We could watch crap telly."

"You think that would work?"

"It would, but we might not need to," she shrugged. "It's still supposed to be at least semi-professional outside of the meeting."

"Sure it is. You've gone to these meetings before, right?"

"It's possible and we've been getting better about them," she said, trying to bite down on a grin. "It's not like you're offering up any other options."

England had grown used to the timing of their conversations, and Russia's pauses didn't last this long. She looked up, and his eyes were on her. She watched as he licked his lips and pulled in a breath. "I think we'll be fine," he said, pulling his gaze away.

"Okay," she said lightly, not mentioning at all that she'd caught him staring at her lips. Or that she'd done it back. She didn't have any experience with having mutual attraction while that someone made lunch. That sort of thing usually kept itself to dinner dates and intentionally romantic settings.

"Nothing else to add?" he asked as he served their lunch.

"Not at the moment," she said, trying to end the conversation as she'd likely only watch his lips if he spoke.

"Alright, enjoy the lunch then,"

She held back a curse as she definitely looked at his lips again as he finished his sentence.

* * *

I hope you liked it. I know what I'm doing now for chapter 9, but I just haven't done it. Hopefully it'll work out okay.

Please review!


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